Into Your Grave
by Nyhratak
Summary: The mind of General Grievous is a horrific place. Such a tortured soul that lacks pity for the living must have no view on his life. One would be wrong with such assumptions, for he knows the wrongs he has been dealt, and resents it horribly. One-shot please R&R!


**Hello all! If you are familiar with me because of my other fic on him, I assure that my update is coming eventually! I also think that this could very well be a kind of "prologue" of sorts to Dreamer's Oath, but probably not, because things don't fit together good enough. On another note: I'm not very good with tenses; sorry. Sooo...Please do enjoy this, review and tell me what you think!**

Into Your Grave

It is no longer a game for me.

It is my life.

The eternal torture destined for me by the gods I once worshiped is very real. What some look upon in scorn is what reminds me each and every day that I must have done something wrong in the past. For why else would I be made to suffer such damnation? Why would my existence be torn apart in a single night if I had not gone astray in my livelihood? Why would even the most compassionate souls turn their faces away with fear when I pass them? And why would I feel so cold inside?

At the outset, I did not realize how costly it would be until it was too late. But the pain was so great...I remember it so vividly.

I stand on the command bridge of the Confederacy's leading ship as the barrage of thoughts plagues my mind. The droids around me speak in their monotone voices; not a different pitch is among them. Some of them speak to me, naturally, but they are heard only as blurred words in a faraway place called reality. Such is not a position I find myself in often anymore. Though my mind is dark, and the heart sheathed behind the horrid duranium chest plates beats for no one, I still find solace in a barren, uncultivated land within the confines of my subconscious. My hands grip the rail before me restlessly. My cybernetic body acts on its own will.

"_General_..."

I hear someone.

Realism returns to me once more and I see my superior standing beside me. Dressed like a member of the highest rank in a social hierarchy, he crosses his arms impatiently. He wears a most unpleasant expression, as if he has been waiting for me to respond to his voice like the animal he fancies me to be.

"Yes, Count Dooku?" I respond, looking down upon the older male with a sense of prolonged hatred.

Dooku smiles cruelly at me. His amber eyes laugh derisively at my repugnant face, the shell that hides the remains of my features. It is a sick facade; a perverse masquerade that I flaunt for the whole galaxy to see. I am every bit as evil as they say and I am not one to deny it, but when I see my reflection - when my eyes behold what I am, a strange sensation is triggered. I almost feel...remorseful. They do not know that, nor will they ever.

The war is far too ruthless for petty feelings.

Emotion makes the holder weak.

I am not weak.

I did not fight for years among my people to be bestowed that label. I did not sacrifice so much to be given so little. I did not lose my _life_, all I ever had and wanted to be called _pathetic_. No. They would see me now with apprehension. She would be at my side once more and acceptance would be given; I would be undivided in my loyalties. The gods would be cursed when the forsaken race cast their eyes on my unearthly body. Weak...Humans and mortals are weak, not I.

The Count and I stare at each other for a moment before the malicious leader carries on. "You have failed to take another world, I am told. You were not made to fail. Your constant disappointment to us disturbs me..."

"I realize that." I say obediently, leashing the beast clawing to get out. "It will not happen again, my Lord." The title drips out of my vocabulator like poison, and Dooku can tell, hearing the patronizing designation just as clearly as I.

"So you have said time and time again..." Dooku's gaze flutters around a bit. "Then why, General, do you keep falling short?"

I consider my answer. "I do not fall short when it comes to power. I pride myself as a strategist, and you have no right to tell me otherwise. In my eyes I have made more accomplishments that you credit me for."

"In your eyes." Dooku mumbles with a chuckle. "In your eyes, everything with life blood running through their veins is a target. You foolish, foolish machine...You are no better than the droids around you." He smirks at me when the remark leaves his mouth.

In that moment, I want nothing more than to kill him where he stands, but I stay my hand on the rail. He watches me closely, awaiting my reaction to his blatant insult. I can bear it no longer. Wrenching my arms away from the metal bar before me, I storm out, ignorant to whatever the human in my wake has to say about it. I have no will left to tolerate his insolence.

And so I run.

I run away like a coward.

The notion kills me inside.

Me?

A coward?

Suddenly I want to destroy something.

A lust for murder arises in my soul. Someone must die. Someone _real_. Not a mechanical idiot I find myself constantly tortured with. I want blood on my hands. I want the satisfaction of completely annihilating a living, breathing organism. I _need_ to.

My taloned feet pound along the hall I travel.

I enter my quarters at the top of the large observation spire, trying to quiet the demon rearing its ugly head. Rage is not a thing I can control.

I sit down in a large chair near the transparent wall, fixing my devilish eyes out onto the stars. I am reminded how lethal I truly am, and concentrate on the will to be a professional killer, not a ruthless monster.

But inside, although I try hard to deny it, I know that I am, and forever will be.

It is no longer a game for me.

_Death, drag me into your silent grave_...

It is my life.


End file.
